


Tipping Point

by NinaIrene



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-10
Updated: 2013-10-09
Packaged: 2017-12-28 23:37:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 10,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/998266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NinaIrene/pseuds/NinaIrene
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Berwald is a laborer in Mathias' house who has to pay a steep price for his imperfections. A story of his trials, triumph, and growing friendship with a Finnish boy named Tino. / A whole mess of ships, but primarily Sufin and dark Densu. Warnings inside.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This was my first multi-chapter that I started almost a year ago and just finished recently. I hope you enjoy and give feedback, it'd be helpful as I'm just about to start my second multi-chapter fic!  
> Yeah, Denmark is evil in this, but it's a dark fic, so that's just how that goes. 
> 
> Warnings: Dubcon and violence, both in later chapters.
> 
> I use human names:  
> Sweden - Berwald  
> Denmark - Mathias  
> Finland - Tino  
> and later  
> Norway - Lukas  
> Estonia - Eduard

Prologue

Two exhausted men collapsed side by side onto a mattress. The both panted as sweat rolled off their toned chests and their heartbeats began to reestablish a steady pace. Their bodies mirrored each other but their faces were what provided the contrast. One’s expression was tense and unsettling, the other’s was satisfied and proud. The second man spoke with a mocking chuckle “Getting loose aren’t you, Sve?” and smirked as he shuffled out of bed towards the bathroom. His words bounced off his partner, who lay completely still staring at the ceiling and thinking to himself.

This was, to both of them, an unbalanced scale. Berwald had never agreed to this “relationship”; he never had any choice. He was to be a laborer for Mathias, and if his master was ever displeased he was to make up for his faults by pleasuring the Dane. He had never doubted the threats of this task, but was completely shocked the first time he had to go through with it.

It was six years ago. Berwald was overseeing the construction of a Danish ship that later sank, killing everyone on board. His only punishment was to suck Mathias until he was satisfied. Berwald never could have imagined that six years later this  
punishment would be remembered as “unreasonably generous.”

Not only did the sexual consequences grow more and more extreme, but they started coming more often and the reasons were less significant each time. Earlier that day he had dropped a newly cleaned shirt of Mathias’s on the ground and was sentenced to take him dry. The scale was unbalanced for a reason: to ensure Mathias stayed on top. The Swede belonged to him, he was his property. And as long as that was true Mathias would remain the king of northern Europe. 

Berwald heard his tyrant’s footsteps growing louder as he was returning from his bathing and was snapped out of his temporary daydream. It was a strict rule that he had to be gone before the Dane returned. He stood, swaying a bit, and hastily put on his robe before limping to the door.

Once in the hallway, having closed the door as silently as possible, he turned to see a smaller fair-haired boy peering out from the neighboring doorway. Tino. He was obviously frightened, holding his white puppy in his trembling arms and taking a deep breath to fuel his barely audible voice. “I- I don’t like hearing you yell like that... you’re in such pain...” he said before lowering his eyes, embarrassed. Berwald tried not to pause long, aware of how nervous his silence made Tino. Passing the boy, he whispered to him to get some rest, and tried to give him a friendly pat on the shoulder. He used the wall to both guide and support him, not wanting Tino to see he was hurting. But he could feel the boy’s large sympathetic eyes burning holes in his back until he turned in to his own room and closed the door behind him.


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

The sun was barely starting to rise when Berwald heard the familiar stern knock on his door. “Wake up already, last night’s dishes need to be washed before master gets up.” a younger voice called. It belonged to Lukas, another servant in the house. 

No one would ever dare speak of it, but Mathias had obvious favorites and Lukas was his number one. Everyone else’s wellbeing was secondary to his. Lukas was well aware of the methods of punishment his master used against Berwald. Although it made him uneasy, he had always turned a blind eye to it. In his mind this made him fair and neutral. But to Berwald he was an accomplice, and tension was always high between the two.

The Swede sat up in bed and stretched, grunting at his aching muscles. He slowly stood to fetch his clothes and caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. His reflection startled him. His eyes were bloodshot with dark circles underneath, and his jaw line and collarbones looked like they were going to break through his skin. He stood in disbelief at his own body, having to lift a hand to his face to ensure what he was seeing was real. What he felt deep in his gut was worse that fatigue or hunger, it was defeat.

“Berwald...? Are you up yet...?” came a gentle voice from the doorway. Berwald turned his back to the door as Tino peeked in. “I don’t mean to rush you... but you know how angry master gets if he’s up before you...” the Swede nodded. He was well aware. Tino took the hint and turned back to the hallway to allow the older man privacy to change.

-Two days later-

Tino and Berwald’s breath hung in the air as they shoveled snow from the inside of a barn. The two younger boys, Tino and Lukas, had been made to patch the roof earlier in the week, but the heavy snowfall had caused it to cave in completely. “T- this isn’t fair to you, Berwald.” Tino spoke through chattering teeth. The two had barely enough clothing to keep them from getting frostbite. “If Lukas and I just repaired the roof all this snow would melt within a day or so. There’s no need for this! He’s just making us do extra work because he can!” 

The taller man didn’t respond. “You should do something! I’m too little to stand up to him but you should!” Berwald looked up to see the boy shaking where he stood, his face red and fingers stiff.

“If you keep moving you’ll be warmer” he offered in his monotonous voice, but he could tell Tino was not happy with him avoiding the subject. He tried again. “It doesn’t bother me to help you. But if Lukas was equally responsible for the roof then Mathias should punish him too.”

“You know he would never do that” the boy responded with as stern of a voice as he could manage. Berwald looked away and continued shoveling, unable to deny the truth in Tino’s statement. Tino had more to confess and stiffly made his way to being within whispering distance of the other. “I’m scared.” he spoke in a weak and cracking voice. “Master told me yesterday that if I keep messing up he’s going to punish me the way he punishes you.” The Swede froze in shock hearing this and looked down to the boy whose tears had just begun to fall.

Finding this new information hard to process, he lifted a finger to Tino’s face to catch a tear. He had barely made contact when the Finnish boy grabbed onto his thin shirt and buried his face into his chest.

“I won’t let him do that to you” Berwald tried to comfort the boy, but Tino was still unsure. 

“But how-” The sound of the barn door unlatching echoed through the space and the two snapped back to work. Afternoon light filtered in around the shape of Lukas as he opened the door wider for another to enter. Mathias stormed in with rage and hastily made his way to Berwald, who met him with a steady, tall posture and a stone cold face. 

“What’s this!?” he demanded as he threw one of his large axes on the ground in front of the other man. Berwald knew he wasn’t expecting an answer so he remained silent and kept his stance. “I couldn’t kill a chicken with this if I tried, do you think it’s sharp enough for battle!? Do you realize what would happen if I tried to defend my land with this!?” He paused for a superficial sigh. “I’m afraid some mistakes just can’t be overlooked. I’m going to have to see you again tonight.”

Berwald gave a disgusted grimace but Mathias’ attention had already turned to Tino, who was wincing at every word the Dane spat. “You go back to your room. I’m done with you for today.” He wouldn’t take his eyes off the boy until he left, as if he was shouting “NOW!” and chasing him through the door. He turned back to Berwald and grabbed his cheek in his hand, speaking to him in a powerful and condescending tone. “Finish sharpening my axe and be in my room within the hour.”

With that he turned and strode out of the barn, Lukas following him and the door slamming shut. The Swede angrily threw down his shovel and kicked the closest pile of melting snow. Mathias was on top of the scale as usual and at the moment Berwald was practically and physically powerless to throw him off.


	3. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First attempt at smut! Bare with me here!  
> Also, please excuse my inaccuracies in regards to clothing. Upon research I discovered that the fashion around the time of the dissolution of the Kalmar Union included tights and codpieces, and there's only so much one can accomplish her first time writing smut!
> 
> Warning: DUBCON AHEAD

Powerless. That word had become frighteningly familiar. He had no status, no influence, and he could barley find the physical strength to complete his daily tasks. Tino was right, something had to be done.  
The sun was hanging lower in the sky, casting long daunting shadows across the hallway leading to the bedrooms. Berwald made his was through the orange glow to the last doorway on the right. He paused briefly before knocking, as if in a few seconds he could conjure up a plan to escape. But once his fist hit the door and it opened, he knew there was no way out. Not this time.

He strode in past Mathias who was already shirtless and sporting his usual proud smirk. Without speaking, the Dane closed and latched the door behind the other. In the middle of a self-soothing deep breath, Berwald was caught off guard as his wrist was grasped and he was thrown onto the bed, hitting his neck on a bedpost. The sharp pain shot up to his skull and he lifted his hand to the injured spot, only to have it pulled away by Mathias. Mathias climbed over him, hands on either side of Berwald’s shoulders.

“Aww did I hurt you?” He mocked. “Here. Let me make it better.” Mathias grabbed hold of his partner’s chin and forced his head to the side so he could reach the wounded area. He began by gently ghosting his lips over the skin that was growing red. Berwald could feel the Dane’s hot breath on his neck and the sadistic grin that grew against his skin before his master spoke. “When are you gonna learn your lesson, Sve?”  
After speaking, Mathias sank his teeth into the other man’s neck wish as much strength as he could. Berwald responded with a sharp inhale and his body tensioned, but he refrained from vocalizing his pain when he remembered that Tino was right next door and could hear every grunt and yell. He was reminded of Tino’s terrified face from the last time the boy had heard his cries. Berwald bit his lip to prevent any sound from escaping.

Mathias released Berwald’s skin and blood began to rise to the surface. He brought his partner’s face back to his and stared into his eyes. The stare held between them could be felt throughout the room. It was a battle - Mathias trying to peer into the other’s mind and Berwald fighting to keep him out. Of course, the Dane would have none of this. Executing a physical response to this battle he crashed his lips over Berwald’s, not asking for permission or giving warning before prying the other’s mouth open with his tongue. In the past, the Swedish man would fight for dominance at this point. But having learned that his tyrant doesn’t fight fair, he let him have his way.

He let his mouth go limp as the other invaded it. Mathias attacked every inch and corner, exhausting Berwald’s jaw and giving his bottom lip a bite for good measure. With one of his hands, Mathias began to wander down the other man’s chest until he reached the end of his thin and tattered shirt. He detached himself from Berwald’s mouth and sat up in between his thighs, grabbed a fistful his shirt, and pulled him upright for their eyes to meet. But this time there was no battle; this time it was obvious. Mathias was sitting on top of the scale, looking down towards his prey.  
After taking a few short moments to savor his victory, Mathias moved his hand to the top of Berwald’s head and forced the other’s face down to the skin just above the waistline of his pants. “Well...?” was all the Danish man had to say. Berwald glared up at him through furrowed brows, but had no choice but to comply. He switched to being on his hands and knees, never breaking eye contact with the other man. His hatred was only feeding into Mathias’ pride.  
“I’m waiting” he whispered with a smirk. Berwald, disgusted, moved his hands to the other’s pants, unbuttoning them with exasperated tugs and grunts. Once he had loosened Mathias’ pants enough he pulled them just below his hips to discover the Dane was already beginning to harden and press against his boxers. ‘Sadistic bastard’ Berwald thought. He tucked his fingers under the waistband and pulled them down as well.

The other man, still hardening in front of him gleamed in sick triumph. Berwald wrapped his hand around him and began to pump, as was routine. Once Mathias was completely stiff Berwald finally broke eye contact with him, lowered his head, and wrapped his lips around the other man’s cock. Wanting to deny the Dane as much pleasure as possible, he took him further into his mouth tantalizingly slow and steadily. Mathias refused to allow this. He grabbed a fistful of hair from the back of Berwald’s head to keep it in place and thrusted deeply and vigorously into the back of his throat. Berwald gagged but tried to keep his voice low.  
The Dane pulled out painfully slow before slamming back in again, allowing the other little time to breathe. He continued this way, ruthlessly throat fucking Berwald who’s only option was to sit still and take it. The room was starting to be filled with Mathias’ grunts and moans, which grew breathier with each movement. He let out a particularly high-pitched whimper and pressed Berwald’s forehead into his stomach, letting the other know he was close. But contrary to the Swede’s hopes, Mathias pulled him back by the hair and tilted his face upwards, indicating that he wasn’t going to stop there.

Berwald, finally able to take a proper breath, gasped for air and looked up at the other with harsh contempt. Saliva ran down his chin and onto the bed. Mathias took in the sight and the corners of his lips turned up into a crooked grin. “We have a problem Sve, you’re still fully dressed.”  
With that he pushed Berwald back onto the bed and leaned over him like a vulture considering its prey. He hooked his fingers under the other’s shirt at the neckline and, as if it took no effort at all, pulled down, ripping the thin fabric down the middle. His hands were left positioned above the waistline of Berwald’s pants. Giving the Swede no eye contact, Mathias grabbed a hold of his pants and pulled both them and his boxers down his thighs and threw them on the floor beside them.

Berwald laid completely hard in front of the other. He despised his body for betraying him. Every breath the Danish man took was another shot of poison through his veins, and yet his body responded as if he was being pleasured. He laid there, exposed, vulnerable and infuriated, and Mathias sat and watched him struggle, seeing right through him. But this torment was not enough for the Dane, who then moved to tease the other by lightly tracing a single finger up Berwald’s length, from the base to the tip and back down again. Despite his hardest efforts to lay still, Berwald’s hips bucked in response, earning a chuckle from Mathias.  
“Are you certain you dislike this? Your body seems to be telling a different story.” Berwald responded with a spiteful glare, and Mathias gave his usual superficially deep sigh. At this statement, the Swedish man could feel his blood boil through every inch of his body. His rage burned through his self control. Before thinking he sat up and spat in the other man’s face. Mathias paused before wiping his face with the back of his hand. “Well well, that wasn’t very nice” he scolded before lifting his hand and bringing it back down on Berwald’s cheek. 

Berwald bit into his bottom lip in order to trap his grunt at the bottom of his throat. Whatever happened he had to remember to stay quiet. Unfortunately this didn’t escape Mathias’ attention.  
“Staying quiet are we? Perhaps I need to be rougher.” With that he slapped Berwald a second time, putting more muscle behind his swing. Protest threatened to break free from Berwald’s throat, but he managed to swallow his pain once more by cutting deeper into his lip with his teeth. “Hmm. This simply won’t do” Mathias taunted. “If you won’t yell for me then maybe I should invite Tino over. I’m sure I can get him to be as loud as I want.”  
Berwald’s eyes shot wide open at these words and he wondered how his blood could feel so frozen and boiling hot at the same time. Mathias could recognize fear beginning to peak through amongst the hatred in the other’s stare. The slightest triumphant chuckle could be heard from him before he spoke next. “Now then. Let’s try this again.” This time Mathias clenched his fist into a tight ball and brought it down on Berwald’s face with as much power as he could manage. The Swede reluctantly accepted his defeat and a strained yell erupted from him. “That’s more like it” the other commented.

Instinctively, Berwald raised his hand and covered his burning nose which was beginning to run with blood. His chest rose and fell rapidly and he tried to regain his composure through his fury. He felt the other man slide off of him and step off the bed. His eyes tracked his every move as he walked over to his dresser and picked up a bottle of oil. “Consider yourself lucky Sve, I didn’t much enjoy taking you dry last time.” He tossed the bottle onto the bed beside Berwald who lay sill, as if he could refuse what was coming next. “Prepare yourself” Mathias ordered as he stood in front of the other and crossed his arms over his chest.

Berwald did as he was told. He grabbed the bottle, poured a generous amount of oil into his palm and over his fingers and, in a struggle against himself, spread his legs to allow himself access. Mathias stood tall and watched his face twist and turn red out of anger and humiliation as he moved his hand down to his hole and his pride was left battered and torn, hanging from a string. The sight was more than sickly arousing for the Dane, who stood painfully hard observing this scene, but refused to touch himself in front of the other.  
Berwald’s breath hitched slightly as he slid two fingers inside himself, his other hand still gripping the bottle of oil. He began to pump his fingers, scissoring and stretching himself wide enough to add a third finger. By this point his stomach was rising and falling irregularly, and his shaky breaths and grunts were escaping form behind his tightly clenched teeth. Mathias began to twitch with impatience. “That’s enough” he barked and reached forward to grab Berwald’s wrist and push it out of the way.

Mathias crawled back onto his bed and situated himself between the other’s thighs. With both hands he lifted Berwald’s hips onto his lap and spread open his hole with his thumbs. Before entering Berwald, Mathias bent down to hiss into his ear. “Hold back that beautiful scream of yours and the next one in your position will be that adorable little Finnish boy across the hall.” With that Mathias thrusted completely into Berwald, roughly squeezing his thighs. Berwald’s yell was tense and cracked, breaking free from him and shattering the room. The sound was music to the Dane’s ears who responded with a deep groan that resolved into a slight chuckle. “That’s what I thought” he said almost to himself.  
He sat up straight again, reestablished his grasp on Berwald’s thighs, pulled out slowly with humming satisfaction, and rammed himself back inside. He continued this pattern, gaining speed at a rate far too uncomfortable for Berwald. Feeling himself being stretched and bruised, Berwald shut his eyes tight, laid his head back, and tightly grasped the sheets. His yells came from behind clenched teeth, deep and messy.

He had almost adjusted to the sensation when he felt the other’s hand grab his jaw and jerk his head down. “You will watch me” he growled. Berwald met Mathias’ brutal gaze. He looked him over. The Dane’s usually tall hair was falling in his face, his veins were showing through the skin on his neck, and a light glaze of sweat had begun to cover his abdomen. A disturbingly light-hearted grunt accompanied each slap of skin. Berwald felt like he was going to be sick. But worse than that, his own ignored cock was throbbing and begging for attention. He lifted his hand to address this situation only to have both wrists pinned to the mattress by Mathias who was too lost in his own euphoria to issue any further warning. Instead he lifted his own hips to angle down inside Berwald and avoid hitting his prostate.  
Mathias’ thrusts became jerky and irregular and Berwald thanked God that it seemed like the other was reaching his end. Still pinning the Swede’s wrists to the bed, Mathias pushed into him one last time and Berwald could feel him throb and come deep inside of him. His face twisted at the disgusting notion and for a moment he considered punching Mathias out cold in the man’s brief moment of vulnerability before remembering that trying to lift his arms would be pointless.

Mathias sat still, catching his breath with his head tilted back and his eyes shut. Once he had recovered he looked straight down at Berwald’s needy cock, scoffed at the sight, slid out of him, and began climbing off the bed. Once his hands were freed, Berwald’s first instinct was to finish himself off. But because Mathias stood at the foot of the bed waiting for him to do just that, he clenched his fists and refused.  
“Hmm. Very well then” Mathias muttered. He bent down to grab his shirt then made his way to the bathroom. Berwald grimaced and rolled onto his side to slide out of the bed. Defeat, once more, came crashing down on him. It was inside him, around him, and in every breath he took. It was a heavy gas in his lungs and a painful weight on his shoulders. It took the rest of his remaining strength to ignore his slowly softening erection, wrap himself in the remains of his shirt, pick up the rest of his clothes, and walk through the door.

Tino’s door was closed tonight, but as he walked by Berwald could hear frightened sobs from just inside the door frame. He felt an urge to comfort the boy - to protect him. But walking in with blood on his face would probably be counterproductive, so instead he strode silently down the hallway to his own bedroom, walked through the door, and closed it behind him as hesitantly and quietly as possible.


	4. Chapter 3

Tino was not crying. His vision may have been blurry, his breaths may have been fought for and caught in his chest, and his cheeks may have been wet, but we was not crying. How could he be? How could this stiff, silent Swedish man mean so much to him that the sight of a bruise on is face could bring him to tears? Tino knew exactly why, actually. Because no matter how much he denied it, fought against it, or reasoned otherwise with all the common sense in the world, Berwald was his rock. His unchanging, unbreakable foundation upon which Tino built his aspirations for a better tomorrow. And looking at his foundation cracked and torn was too much for him to bear at the moment.

Unable to sleep the previous night, Tino had watched the still horizon outside his bedroom window until it faded from black to grey, and eventually grew orange. He had not wanted to move - he had been too scared to make any noise and didn’t know if his limbs would cooperate with him if he tried, or if they would instead opt to crumble underneath him and bring him to the ground. As he watched the morning sky grow lighter, he had noticed a figure walking away from his building on the Eastern horizon. Berwald. 

Tino had seen this before. He had often spotted Berwald escaping to this particular patch of forest to seek refuge from a stressful atmosphere. (Either Tino had been the only one to notice, or no one else had felt like reporting Berwald and robbing him of his few moments of peace.) Tino had often wondered where exactly it was that Berwald headed off to, what thoughts flooded his mind, and is he perhaps could use a companion. Before today Tino had always been far too intimidated by the Swede’s possible reaction to being followed, to search for the answers to these questions. But this morning - he wasn’t sure if it was a result of the man’s painful and alarming yelling the night before, or his lack of sleep, or perhaps both - he couldn’t stand to sit around uselessly and watch the man who had promised to protect him limp away to solitude. 

That, somehow, is how he wound up here. Standing directly in front of the Swede who was sitting on the forest floor and watching the tall, unkempt grass sway in the wind across the field that stretched out endlessly in front of him. Tino, breathless at the sight of Berwald’s bruised and bloodshot eyes, began to close the space between them before he even noticed he was walking. With every step he became aware of even more of the other’s current condition - the red bite marks on his neck, and how he shivered without a shirt underneath his robe. He couldn’t believe it. Berwald was his strength, his inspiration - Tino reached the other and, not sure what to do, collapsed to his knees. His arms fell limp at his sides and he shut his eyes tight, allowing his sobs to break free, powerful and obnoxious.

Tino wasn’t sure what was worse - seeing the destruction caused by the beating he had listened to the previous night, or the embarrassing idiot he was making of himself sobbing helplessly in front of the man who inspired him to be brave. The weight of both these things and what seemed like a million foreign emotions was crushing Tino’s chest and he struggled to breathe, gasping through his tears. He felt the urge to run away and try to forget that he had ever snuck out after Berwald, but something other than his impossibly weak knees was keeping him in place. Tino had to blink away the watery haze in his eyes to ensure what he was feeling was real. As soon as he could register what was happening around him he realized Berwald had taken him into his arms, his hands firmly at Tino’s shoulder blades, and Tino’s cheek was now resting on the Swedish man’s shoulder. 

God how he couldn’t stand himself at the moment. What had he even hoped to accomplish by coming out here? Certainly not this - making this man who had gone through so much comfort HIM. He tried to apologize through huffs.  
“I... I’m sorry... y-you shouldn’t be the one... I mean... I’m not the one h-he hurt...” Berwald only tightened his grasp on the boy and the few seconds before his reply felt like a painful eternity to Tino.  
“No. S’not only me being hurt. When he hurts one of us he damages us all. S’okay to be upset.” Tino’s sobs were lightening but the hold that the other man had on him was not. A couple more calming minuted passed before Berwald Spoke again. “Tino, d’ya have family or friends nearby?” Tino was a bit taken back by this sudden personal inquiry, and had to silence the voices of optimism that sang out in his head of the possible implications of Berwald’s question in order to answer appropriately.  
“N-no,” he responded, his voice still a bit unsteady, “I’m afraid I remember next to nothing of my blood family, and I wound up in this place before I could establish any steady friendships.” Tino was tempted to demand that Berwald explain himself, but he figured the Swede was the type of man who would inform you of his motives if it was crucial to do so, and Tino trusted his judgement.  
“Oh.” was all Berwald replied with.

The sun was well above the horizon and ascending into the clouds by the time Tino was peaceful enough to pull away from Berwald and look into his eyes. Previously under the assumption that whatever went on under the man’s hard stare was absolutely impossible to read, Tino had never given him much eye contact in general. But here, alone with him, Tino could see Berwald’s usually lifeless gaze fade and give way to something much more personal. The boy felt embarrassment growing in his gut - feeling as if he was being invited to view something so intensely intimate of Berwald’s that was not his to witness. 

Breaking the silence with no sound at all, Berwald cautiously moved his hand up to the younger boy’s face and ever so slightly traced his fingers along his gentle jawline. Berwald’s fingertips were cold as ice and calloused as stone. Despite himself, Tino shivered underneath his touch and broke eye contact, choosing instead to stare at the morning frost melting in the grass beneath them, and causing Berwald to immediately withdraw his hand.

For some reason he couldn’t explain, Tino felt a pang of guilt. In an attempt to shake the awkward silence that hung between the two, a memory presented itself from the back of Tino’s mind.   
“Oh! That’s right! My old neighbor! If I remember anything about my home in Finland growing up, it’s him.” The two reestablished eye contact, this time with a lighter, more enthusiastic atmosphere around them, and Berwald thought to himself for the millionth time how wonderful of a gift it was for this boy to be able to do that to everyone around him, even in the most grim of situations.  
“I remember him being a tad quirky, but absolutely dependable. I always felt like I could rely on him when I got in trouble. His name is Eduard, and last I heard he was living in Estonia. Would that be too far?” Tino felt his guts drowning in dangerous excitement and he had to remind himself to keep a cool composure - Berwald still hadn’t technically revealed his intentions.   
“Should work fine if ya know the way” the Swedish man nodded. “Can ya write ‘em and see if he’s still where ya think he is?”  
“Sure thing!” Tino exclaimed a bit too enthusiastically, but he didn’t care. He was almost positive now that he and Berwald were on the same page with this conversation and the idea of freedom, with Berwald, was more than he could have ever dreamed of.  
“Do it soon” Berwald instructed in a friendly tone that Tino was unfamiliar with, and to accompany his own larger-than-life smile, Tino could unmistakably see the corners of Berwald’s lips turn upwards as well. At this incredible sight warmth spilled over into every cell of Tino’s body and, without thinking, he threw his arms around Berwald’s neck. He immediately thought his actions were a mistake when he felt the other man’s body grow tense beneath him, but made no effort to pull away once he felt slender yet steady arms wrap around his waist. Their embrace didn’t last long, however.

“Tino. I need ya to promise me somethin’” Berwald stated bluntly as he leaned back to catch the Finnish boy’s eyes with his own once more. Tino felt anxiety shoot down his spine.  
“Y-yes?”  
“When the day comes to claim our freedom” Berwald continued, “it won’t be pleasant. Might have to fight. Do horrible things. But you need not be ‘fraid. ‘Cause I’ll be with you. During, after, as long as you’ll let me be. M’kay?”  
Tino was at an absolute loss for words. Suddenly, the bruises and cuts on Berwald’s neck meant nothing. His rock, his foundation, was still as strong as ever, and he felt silly for doubting its endurance earlier. His smile grew from ear to ear and all he could do was nod. He may prefer to avoid confrontation, but if he needed to be brave he could sure as hell put up a fight, and he sure as hell could do it for the sake of a future with Berwald.


	5. Chapter 4

The next three days following their agreement went by smoothly and far too slowly. Berwald hadn’t received an update concerning Tino’s attempts to get in touch with his old neighbor in Estonia, but he trusted that the boy was holding up his end of their plan to the best of his ability, and didn’t see it necessary to risk revealing them by asking. He clung dearly to the ideology of their escape however, fantasizing about being able to remove his Finnish source of joy from this wretched environment.

Just this anticipation enabled Berwald to stand taller and stride deeper as he made his way back to their Danish tyrant’s estate from his usual serene hideout. He had snuck out there the previous night to catch some fresh air after yet another argument with Mathias - something about accusations that Berwald was using ink and letter paper without Mathias’ permission. Of course, Berwald had no clue what the crazy Dane was on about. He smirked to himself.

He had apparently spent quite some time in the forest calming himself, as the sun was now beginning to peak it’s way over the fields and glisten across the frost - he decided he should head back instead of cutting it as closely as he and Tino had three days earlier. Yes, staying out that late had been a risk, but in just a few agonizing weeks it would be nothing but worth it.   
He was greeted in the doorway by Lukas, who was crossing his arms and sporting a scowl. “You’ve got to start watching the time whenever you walk off, if he notices and asks where you are I’m not lying for you.”  
Berwald just stood silent and looked down at the Norwegian until Lukas felt awkwardly intimidated enough to continue with his next sentence. “Breakfast needs to be made before he gets up and I need your help today.” Lukas started to turn and walk back inside but Berwald was immediately uneasy with this odd request.

“Doesn’t Tino usually help ya?” Lukas didn’t stop or turn around and replied in a monotonous tone.  
“He is sick today. He will be staying in his room.” Berwald gave a scowl to no one and walked stiffly behind the younger boy to the kitchen. Once he reached it he followed Lukas’ directions in preparing breakfast for Mathias and then himself. But though he was preoccupied with these tasks he couldn’t shake the gut-wrenching worry that overwhelmed him when he thought of Tino. He knew something was being hidden from him. And if Tino was actually sick like Lukas had told him, there was no way he was receiving the care he probably needed. He twitched and swallowed nervously thinking of the boy in pain and left alone. Berwald would definitely have to visit him later.

“Don’t worry Ber, it’s just a cold” Lukas reassured after observing Berwald’s discomfort. “He should be able to return to work after a day of rest. Now fetch the plates for me.” Berwald had a multitude of emotions in response to this. Anger that he was most likely being lied to, helplessness as a result of the situation being downplayed, and irritation from Lukas bossing him around. He thought to himself that his current emotions were childish but he couldn’t help them - nor did he have a particular desire to. He strode over to the China cabinet - Mathias always insisted on luxurious plates with every meal - and grabbed for the breakfast set, too absorbed in his own frustration to notice an angry Dane sneaking up behind him.

“SVE!” Mathias yelled from just a foot behind Berwald, and the sudden noise made the Swedish man jump and loose his grip on a plate, sending it to the floor to crash into countless pieces. Berwald braced himself for more yelling but it didn’t come. Instead he felt Mathias’ chest press against his back, and heard him give a soft chuckle while his index and middle fingers ran from Berwald’s collar bones down to his stomach. Mathias’ breath was heavy, making his voice barely audible as he spoke next, directly into Berwald’s ear.   
“Well what do ‘ya know? How perfect is this timing? Perfect, perfect. I was coming to alert you of a punishment you’ll have to go through at noon and this is just a cherry on top - your carelessness here calls for even more! Oh how much fun I get to have now! How perfect!”

“Master.” Called a bowing Lukas from the doorway to their left. “Your food is ready and as soon as Berwald retrieves a plate for me it will be served.”  
Mathias gave Lukas a smile. “Of course. How efficient you are, Nor. I could use more like you around here. Yes, so nice!” He removed himself from Berwald and Lukas looked to the ground, his face troubled and red. Able to move again, Berwald grabbed for another plate and held it out to Lukas, disgusted, before bending to clean up the broken glass.


	6. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IMPORTANT WARNING: Violence and attempted rape in this chapter!

Berwald couldn’t decide weather or not noon came much too quickly or much too slowly for his taste, but he did decide to think about it long and hard as a welcome distraction. He walked down the same hallway, towards the same door, in the same tattered shoes as usual. But something was different. Something took these familiarities and twisted them so that Berwald felt he was being lead through a foreign and grotesque ritual. And it wasn’t any change in the environment around him. It was, he realized as he approached Tino’s door on his right, his anxiety that had planted worry in his mind ever since Lukas had announced that Tino was “sick” earlier this morning. So many unanswered questions caused Berwald’s movements to be edgy and stiff as he faced Mathias’ door.

However, when he was right next to Tino’s room, this anxiety prevented him from simply passing by, and he stood still. He knew what he wanted to do, but somehow felt uncertain, like he would stand there and wait for some sort of outside encouragement. After a few seconds and deep breathes, he lifted his hand to Tino’s door and tapped with his knuckles as gently as possible. The door that clicked open though was to his left and not in front of him. His body froze again. 

“I find it hard to believe that after all these years you’re still confused about which room to report to” came a husky voice from the door frame. “Now come in this instance and we’ll just let this slide, okay?” Berwald turned to give stern eye contact to the Danish man, but to his surprise, Mathias was already delivering a stare strong enough to defeat Berwald’s own. His lip flinched, disgusted, and he turned to walk into Mathias’ room. He gave one last glance over his shoulder to Tino’s door, still closed, before the sight disappeared behind him as Mathias shut his own.

Everything about this room made Berwald’s skin crawl. From the smell of the candles lighting the corners to the grey curtains that strangled all sunlight. He faced the bed and awaited his first instructions. Still, the the eerie sense sense that something was making this time different somehow wouldn’t leave him alone. His palms grew sweaty and he shut his eyes and took a deep breath to calm himself. However, his attempts were for nothing when an intense feeling of apprehension seized his heart as Mathias spoke from a few feet behind him. “Undress” he commanded.

The command itself was nothing new, but what filled Berwald with seemingly unreasonable fear was Mathias’ tone of voice. It was as if he was alluding to some fact that should be obvious, and Berwald should be ashamed to not be aware of. He said it like he was presenting a surprise. Berwald turned to face him cautiously, as if one wrong move could cost him his life. But once he was facing Mathias, he saw it. The sick bastard was standing next to it like it was proud. Crumbled in a pile on the floor was a light blue jacket and pants that matched. Tino’s clothes.

Berwald tried to keep his composure for at least a few seconds, but it was no use. Visions began to flood his mind. Visions of his beautiful Finnish boy being ripped to shreds by this monster. Visions of him bleeding like he had, being violated like he had, screaming out in pain like he had. Mathias didn’t deserve to touch Tino, Berwald thought, and there was no way Tino had done anything to deserve such agony.

What moved Berwald to advance across the room towards Mathias was not his own will, but his wrath. He reached him and swung his fist at the other’s face with as much fiery might as he could manage, but Mathias caught his fist with his palm, and with a disturbingly calm expression, delivered a blow to Berwald’s gut. Berwald instinctively bent and clutched his stomach. Mathias leaned into him, grabbed his chin, and lifted his face to look into his eyes.

“You don’t want to get into this with me” he growled, “your body is much weaker than mine. You know this.” Berwald didn’t listen. He hardly waited for the other to finish speaking before he swung with his other arm, this time hitting Mathias square in the eye. Berwald backed up. Mathias quickly recovered and his much-too-passive expression turned dark. He was serious now. He advanced towards Berwald most likely with the full intention of knocking him unconscious, but Berwald was determined to not be defeated. Not today. Not for Tino’s sake.

When Mathias reached him Berwald surprised him by grabbing a hold of his forearm with both hands and quickly swinging him against a wall, consequently knocking the air out of him, making him loose his balance, and sending him to the floor. Berwald wanted to kick the Dane’s face in right then and there, but more than that for the moment, he wanted an explanation.

“Is one not enough for ya!?” Berwald spat. Mathias groaned and rubbed at his back before answering.  
“It could be. But zero would be way too little, don’t ya think?” Berwald stared in confusion at this response until slowly and painfully, realization hit. Mathias knew. “You thought you could just slip right out from under my nose? Come on Sve, babe, don’t be stupid.” He began to stand back up and Berwald took a cautious step back. “Stealing MY paper and MY ink to write letters to some Estonian to escape from ME!? Pshh,” he smirked, “how did you even think that would work?” Awful thoughts flooded Berwald’s mind, all of them leaving him with one conclusion: this was all fault.\

“Can’t keep us forever, Mathias. We’re leaving” Berwald growled, still stepping back. In response to this, to Berwald’s uneasy surprise, Mathias began to snicker and then threw his head back to let out howls of amusement. Berwald stared at him with impatience. When he was finished with his obnoxious laughter he began to advance forward again, this time not stopping until he had trapped Berwald against the wall, only inches between their faces.

“Well, well, well” he taunted. “Never thought you’d be the one to admit to it. And so quickly too!” Anger and mock disappointment was dripping from each disgusting word. “You see, your delicious Finnish boy swore on his life that he had no idea what I was talking about when I mentioned the letters.” He paused for a chuckle. “Went at that bitch for three rounds and he still denied trying to leave.”

Berwald had had enough. The room around him began to spin and pulse, and if Mathias had said anything else after that he didn’t hear it. His whole body was burning uncontrollably and he punched Mathias in the jaw with all of the fury and passion that was tearing through his veins. He heard a crack from the other’s jaw upon impact and decided to give the other no time to recuperate before delivering a second blow to Mathias’ eye socket. Mathias stumbled backwards and lot out a short, frustrated yell before diving forward and pinning Berwald to the wall by his throat. Berwald also felt the others’ knee ram into his cock and stay there, crushing him against the wall. Pain spread through his body like flames and his knees started to shake. His vision became blurry due to the lack of circulation in his neck, but he was still conscious enough to think of a way out. 

A candle stand was just within his reach on a bedside table beside him, and he grabbed for it before Mathias could stop him, and swung the corner of it hard into Mathias’ skull. Berwald saw the other’s eyes roll back into his head and he fell backwards to the floor. Berwald dropped the candle stand and stumbled, coughing and gasping loudly for air. Once he could breathe steadily again he noticed something was off. The light from behind him was flickering. He turned around and his fears were confirmed - the candle that had been resting on the stand had fallen to the ground and its flame was beginning to sink into the wooden floor.

Berwald also realized he had other problems when the man on the ground in front of him began to groan and try to prop himself up on his arms. He considered running away that second but his common sense was silenced by an overpowering and sick demand for a more ruthless revenge. He went to Mathias and kicked him in his side before he had a chance to stand. Once, twice, three time. Mathias coughed blood onto the floor. 

Mathias looked as if he was trying to speak, but his broken jaw proved that to be difficult. So instead he raised his middle finger to Berwald. Berwald was determined to not let his tyrant have the last “word,” so he reached down and grabbed Mathias’ wrist with one hand and pinned it above his head. Tempted, he did the same with his other hand. And then that was it - there was no stopping himself now. The only thing that made sense anymore was to put Mathias through the same pain and humiliation that Berwald himself had gone through for the past six years.

A growl erupted from Mathias’ throat like he had just realized Berwald’s intentions and was issuing a warning. This, of course, was pointless. Berwald stood up straight, and with the heel of his shoe, stomped twice as hard as he could onto one of Mathias’ wrists. He heard it crunch and a twisted thrill shot through him as Mathias cried out. He did the same with the other wrist.

Once Mathias was making no attempts to move his arms, Berwald made a move down to the other’s pants. He would have to be quick, he thought, the flame behind them had evolved into an outright fire and was eating away at the floorboards.  
He grabbed Mathias’ pants at the waistline and jerked them down off of him, along with his boxers. In response to this the Dane yelled and his breath quickened, and he tried to flip around to his back. Berwald got down on his knees and pinned the other face down by his shoulder blades, and Mathias was in too much pain to put up any more of a fight.

“Quick,” Berwald had to keep reminding himself. Some sort of primitive sadism was trying to convince him to drag the punishment out. The world around him was red, it was shattered and pulsing, and he couldn’t hear his own thoughts even if he tried. All he could hear was the snapping of flames not too far behind him, the Dane underneath him attempting to scream and a... voice? Was someone... calling his name? It came again, this time louder and sounding more desperate.

“Berwald!” The Swede’s head snapped up and what he saw made the hellish anger that had been suffocating him run away like a coward. Tino stood there, dressed in an old ragged T-shirt and tattered pants, with a swollen eye and torn neck. However the look on the boy’s face was not fearful, but rather, it revealed to Berwald a side of Tino that he had never seen. A side powered by rational determination, strong and mad.

“What are you doing!? Let’s go!” he yelled, and Berwald had never felt so embarrassed in his life. Underneath him was his squirming and half-dressed victim, and scolding him from the doorway was the boy that was currently brave enough to disband his fury and see clearly. Tino could obviously tell what he was planning, Berwald thought, and the whole scene was outright humiliating. Berwald’s face flushed, he nodded, and quickly stood and marched towards the door to leave this disgusting room.

Tino stopped by his room to grab a backpack that he had stuffed with clothes and various other survival supplies, and Berwald decided he should run to his own room to prepare a bag for himself. He tumbled to his room in a rush, grabbed the largest backpack from behind his door, and began stuffing everything he could inside it from his dresser drawers, which didn’t hold much. Adrenaline raced through his veins and every inch of his body was shaking. He even noticed his breathing was twice as fierce as normal - partially because of the smoke that was beginning to build up in his room. He tried to regain his composure but the pressure to do so caused him even more anxiety. By this point Berwald found himself kneeling by his dresser and staring at the ground with wide eyes, trying to prevent himself from hyperventilating.

He jumped and let out a loud, unintentional gasp when he felt a hand cautiously come to rest on his shoulder. He turned and saw Tino kneeling behind him, looking straight into his eyes with firm sympathy. “Ber, you can do this. It’s just like we discussed. We can rest and figure out where we’re going later. But for now we need to get out of this house, okay?”  
And in Tino’s eyes, despite the bruising, Berwald found it. He found the sturdy faith he needed to get off his knees, onto his feet, and to stuff the last of his clothes in his bag. Tino had that precious and beautiful gift, Berwald thought. The boy’s soft face and tender voice, paired with his passionate optimism - it was enough to shoot courage into the heart of any damaged solider. He fastened his bag, slung it over his shoulder, and lead the way out of the room.

He couldn’t turn around to glimpse their bedrooms one last time. He felt like that would have been bidding them farewell in some way, and that was more kind of a gesture than any of these walls deserved.

On their way out the front door they were met by Lukas, who had just run up and was catching his balance on the door frame and panting.  
“I saw... smoke... and I -” he stopped mid sentence when he looked up to see the other two with still expressions and bags on their backs. Berwald scowled at Lukas as the boy’s eyes went wide and his skin crawled with realization and terror. “You...” he managed to choke out.  
For a few seconds Berwald feared that Lukas was going to try and stop them. But fortunately when Berwald strode forward out the door the speechless Norwegian stepped aside to let them both pass, his body stiff and his face still displaying his shock. As soon as the doorway was clear Lukas ran inside, and Berwald could hear the boy’s cracked and horrified scream as he called for Mathias. However, Berwald kept his face expressionless, even when we felt Tino’s large and concerned eyes examining him. From here on out he just had to keep facing forward and walking. Walking straight, never looking back, and keeping an ear out for Tino’s footsteps at all times, which he noticed were irregular due to the boy limping.

Soon the two could no longer hear the crackling and rumbling of an estate in flames. They were out into territory that neither were familiar with. Both were now lost, and it was the most peacefully exciting feeling that either could ever remember.


	7. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IMPORTANT: This final chapter took so long because in the middle of writing it I read half of “Mrs. Dalloway” in one sitting and man, that book messes with your mind. (It did for me at least!) After that I couldn’t NOT write in her style. I found I could express myself with much more clarity than ever before. So what does that mean for this story? The style in this chapter, especially in the last third, is DRAMATICALLY different from the rest of the story. Most people in my class who also read Mrs. Dalloway hated the style, and that’s the risk I took in writing this chapter that way, but more than anything I’d love to hear what you think of how it sounds. Does it add to it or take away? This is the first time I’ve really experimented with this style so I’d love feedback on it!

The weight of the midnight sky seemed to crush Berwald more and more with every second that passed in silence. He was shivering despite the warm glow of the campfire. He had never felt so naked and exposed, despite his heavy clothing. He had never felt so scrutinized - like he was under critical examination - despite Tino hardly acknowledging his existence since they had run away.

He had ruined everything, he thought to himself, he had allowed himself to become a victim of his own thirst for revenge and as a punishment he could never have Tino as his own. 

The year’s harsh winter had begun to bow and give way to spring and this was a relief to both men. Despite their Nordic blood they had both been struggling through the frigid trek across Sweden. (Spring also, somehow, teased them with its cliché promise of hope - of renewal - of a chance to start fresh. Tino and Berwald both knew that this idea was childish and absurd - that something such as the color of the leaves or the temperature of the space around them or even the passing of time could bring with it offerings of an alternate reality as if it owed them something. But what a comforting thought!)

They sat a few feet apart on the ground next to the fire that they had used to cook their dinner, and that was now serving as a makeshift distraction. (From what they could not exactly say.) Berwald had lost his gaze to the flames. Something about them wouldn’t let him look away. Something frightening. He didn’t even take notice when Tino stood, stared at him for a few moments before giving up on being acknowledged, and went to fetch his blanket to retire for the night. He was only returned to his surroundings when the fire had dimmed to a deep orange glow amongst charred wood, and for some reason became too painful to watch.

He bowed his head out of... remorse? respect? as one would do at a funeral, and then he too went to fetch his blanket and settle down for the evening. He saw where Tino had already fallen asleep and, as usual, laid down no more than five feet from him. Berwald did not plan to fool himself into thinking he could ever be close to this boy - that Tino would want him to be - but he still wanted to remain within reach if something were to go wrong in the night. That was the least he could offer Tino, he thought, (or was it the most?) - protection.  
Although, after the recent incident Berwald could no longer fully believe that he was the stronger of the two.

He was awoken before he had even realized he was drifting off to sleep. The night sky was still sinister and black, and a stream of smoke was still rising from the pile of ashes that had been their fire. He laid there on his side and tried to decipher what seemed “off,” and it took longer than it probably should have for him to realize what had woken him. As much as he wished he couldn’t, he could hear subtle whimpering and sniffling that tore his heart in two as soon as he recognized the sound.

Berwald couldn’t decide what to do. He did know, without a doubt, that Tino was crying because of him. Because of what he had seen Berwald do - because of the animal he had discovered Berwald to be, he was stuck in the wild with a grotesque animal! Because of this Berwald knew it would be of no use to try and comfort the boy. Still, lying there, faking ignorance and pretending not to be aware of Tino’s misery was more than he could bare. After much deliberation he decided he would roll over and face Tino. This way the boy would at least know Berwald was awake and could hear him, hopefully helping him to feel less alone. (How childish it was to conjure up plans like this, Berwald thought, how childish.) (And why should Tino feel less alone hearing him move - wouldn’t he rather be by himself than trapped in the wilderness with a beast? Still, he moved.)

As soon as he did he saw the outline of Tino shivering under his thin layer of covers and realized he had underestimated how painful it would be to just stay where he was and watch the other as he cried. Berwald couldn’t expect Tino to forgive him (he had had enough childish hopes for one night!) but he felt a need to do something. He rose, felt unreasonably like a brave soldier, carried his own blanket over to Tino, and laid it across him.

This caused Tino to freeze and fall silent, and Berwald immediately assumed he had done something terribly wrong and turned to head back to his own resting place. 

“Wait...” Tino requested with a barely audible and cracking voice. Berwald - his mind too full to anticipate one thing or another - turned back and stared silently and patiently as the boy gathered the strength to prop himself up on his elbows. Tino made no eye contact with Berwald, only stared intensely at his own lap as he brainstormed how to express what was on his mind. Finally, once he was as sure as he could ever be that he could explain himself without crying, he admitted:  
“It’s just... we’re not... this wasn’t how it was supposed to be... we were going to be... happy together and... we...” and that was all he could stand to hear himself say before breaking out in sobs again. Berwald wasn’t certain his legs could hold him upright anymore after hearing this, so to air on the side of caution, he simply took a seat on the ground next to Tino. How right this felt - how wrong it was what was happening - but how right he felt sitting there.

Of course he understood what Tino had said. It had been the only thought in his mind since leaving Mathias. They had dreamt of being happy together but he had destroyed that dream. Now, obviously, he could only sit next to Tino. That was all. Sit next to him... close... very close as he cried... as Tino didn’t resist his presence... and then all at once Berwald realized exactly what he was doing.  
Tino was no longer upset about what he had seen. It was so clear now. Maybe he had been shaken up, yes, but that was not why he was crying now. How ignorant Berwald had been! He had spent these last few days only in his own mind, withdrawing himself from Tino, supposedly for his own good, not once thinking of how the boy might interpret his intentions. How idiotic!

For the first time in days, Berwald knew exactly what to do. No matter how painful and humiliating - because all of that amounted to nothing compared to Tino - he had to apologize.  
“I gave us a chance then tore it to shreds. ‘M sorry.”

Suddenly, strangely, after his apology, he found himself not caring. He knew he did care - about Tino, about their future - but it was as if he had offered some great atonement, and nothing was up to him any longer. He could only sit back and let wash over him what would. He had to - he had to clear his mind of everything, of care even, to accept and understand the truth, no matter how Tino responded. It was like he knew this instinctively, and subconsciously went through these motions with long anticipated content. It was a risk - he knew this - to empty his mind and allow for Tino’s answer to infiltrate him. What if it was a lost cause? What if everything fell through? But what if it all stood strong, he also thought. Oh how impulsively we create disasters in our minds! And that was the last thought he decided to entertain. 

Only once he had dropped these concerns, only once his worry no longer clouded his mind, everything could be experienced with such beautiful clarity. And it was. Tino was... smiling? Yes! It was ever so slight, and ever so troubled, but existent nonetheless: Tino’s smile. A smile and then a short, relieved chuckle that broke through the boy’s faded sobbing, and he leaned over to let his forehead fall on Berwald’s shoulder, and all was right. Berwald breathed in the moment - this starlit, still moment - he breathed in Tino, he found comfort in the warmth that his heart was frantically pumping through him, and all was right. 

The following days felt like they belonged in a different storyline, or rather, that the days before this belonged to some separate person. Someone they would pity but never understand. For now they had each other - they actually, finally had love - and how could they put themselves out of that mindset to sympathize with their past selves? Why would they want to? They became each other’s reality - each other’s way of measuring what was right and what was wrong, each other’s strong, unchanging rock. Mathias no longer mattered, memories of hunger, of blood and of being owned, of only dreaming of freedom, and even, Berwald finally realized, of tipping that damn scale - none of that mattered.

Only this mattered: traveling to Estonia with Tino, living with him, and them devoting themselves to each other (they had decided one night with a moonlit kiss as if to make it official) forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There we have it, the end! Thank you so much for reading!
> 
> Well, actually, this is only the end for those who prefer a SuFin ending~ for DenSu fans: I have an epilogue/alternative ending posted separately on my profile for you ;D


End file.
